30 Puckurt Drabbles Meme III
by PteraWaters
Summary: 30 days of Puckurt Drabbles, June 2012 edition. Includes the Boston series and the Skank Kurt series as well as a few one-offs. Warnings: character death. Language in some chapters. M rating and warnings for Chapters 24 and 28.
1. Boston Number 1

His head is spinning and there are colors everywhere, but Kurt's not sure anyone else can see them. It's like nothing makes sense. Or everything makes too much sense and his brain has muffled the words to protect itself from the horrible reality. Slipped on ... something. Stairs? Yes, stairs. With ice on them. Senseless.

Kurt runs, he's not sure where, but he hopes it's a place where the air isn't so thick and difficult to breathe because it may be his heart that's breaking, but it's his lungs that hurt. The only thing that helps are strong arms holding him tighter, holding his ribs and his lungs and his heart in so they don't explode. Soft words whisper, "I'm here. It'll be okay."

Kurt finally starts to cry.


	2. Boston Number 2

"You're not going to the funeral?" Finn asks, a deep frown marring his face. "But everyone's going to be there and you were his-"

"I know." Kurt says, holding up his hand so Finn will stop assaulting him with words he's heard before. "But I - I _can't_, Finn!"

"What's it gonna look like? If everyone from glee is there, but you're not?"

"Rachel's not going," Kurt argues, knowing it's a weak argument at best. Rachel went to New York and has barely looked back.

"Rachel wasn't _in love_ with him, Kurt! You can't-"

"Just leave me alone, Finn!"

After a moment, that's what Finn does, throwing up his hands and stomping away, like he hasn't laid on enough guilt already.

A minute later, the footsteps come back, softer this time, but with a solidness that tells Kurt it isn't Tina or even Mercedes. A deep voice says, "I didn't go to my Nana's funeral back in August. Didn't want anyone to see me cry."

"Do you regret not going?"

"Yeah," Puck says simply. "You think you will?"

"Maybe," Kurt admits, even though he doesn't want to. "But his mom told Carole it's open casket."

It must take Puck a minute to make the connection that Kurt left hanging in the air because his silence is followed by a sharp breath. "See it to believe it, huh?"

Kurt nods. "I'm afraid if I start believing it..."

"What? You'll cry? Dude, you cried that one time Finn jumped off the back of the couch. Everyone's seen you cry."

"Finn made my cake fall, and no. I'm afraid I'll, I don't know, go insane." Kurt shrugs one shoulder hopelessly and the funny thing is, he can kind of see it. What he'll do, what he'll say, how angry Blaine's family will be for pulling focus from their son.

"So stick by me," Puck offers, like they're better friends than they are.

"Why?"

"Because," Puck explains, holding out his hand like he wants Kurt to take it, "I dated Santana for, like, a year. I know a little something about talking down crazy gays."

Kurt wants to laugh at the statement, but he can't. Instead he just nods and folds his hand into Puck's. He's surprised that it's not any bigger than his.


	3. Boston Number 3

"I don't know, Mercedes," Kurt sighs into his phone, nodding as Puck joins him in the Hummel Tire and Lube office. "My two greatest loves, theater and fashion, are in New York. ... I know I said that, but LA? I don't know."

Puck tries to get Kurt's attention - he has to know what the difference was between two parts with the same serial number, except one of them has an extra "B" at the end - but Kurt isnt't meeting his eyes while he's still talking to Mercedes. At least LA is a topic he doesn't mind overhearing. That's the whole reason he'd taken this job when Finn left for Gerogia and the Army, to make money for LA. It turned out that even if he is good at doing books, it helps to know that shit out in LA costs twice as much as it does here in Lima. Seven hundred bucks and a rusty truck weren't gonna cut it. But Puck had graduated high school. He could do anything, even save up enough money to actually make it in LA without having to limp back to Lima after the six weeks his money would have lasted had he left in August like he was planning on. Well, planning before his dad showed up and took, like, seventy percent of his money.

Kurt speaks again, "That's true..." before assessing a sly look at Puck. "You still California bound?"

"In a few months, yeah," Puck nods, "why?"

"Just..:considering my options," Kurt replies, giving Puck a half smile that would be insignificant if it weren't the first Puck's seen since Blaine died.

It gives him a feeling that Puck explains away as gas.


	4. RPF Ode to Chundershirt

_So, this is a diversion from the other storyline. It's rpf based on a conversation I had with Sparkysparky from LJ, but it's hardly reality based. Enjoy!_

Mark thinks maybe this is the weirdest turn his life has ever taken when he pulls on Chris' undershirt and it doesn't budge. Chuckling in confusion, he asks, "What, is this thing glued on?"

"Leave it," Chris says, distracting Mark by shoving a hand into his Batman boxers.

An hour later, Mark's sore and definitely feels like he's no longer in his early twenties, but damn, it was worth it. At least, until he feels the ribbing of Chris' undershirt pressing his skin into his ribs. "C'mon," he says sleepily, running one hand down the side seam to the bottom edge and slipping his fingertips along the soft skin of Chris' hip. "Take this off?"

"Can't," Chris replies, pulling Mark closer and inhaling the skin on the top of his head.

"There's no one else here, man," Mark insists. "You don't want me to see you?"

"No, I literally _can't_," Chris replies as he pushes away, leaving Mark's front side cold in comparison. Mark flops back on the bed and the explanation he's expecting just doesn't come. Instead he hears the rustle of fabric and when he opens his eyes, Chris is wearing his jeans and is halfway through pulling his transformers t-shirt back on.

Mark frowns and kneels up on the bed so he can grab Chris' wrist. "Where're you going? What's going on? What, am I the other woman or something?" He laughs, but it's awkward and suddenly it seems really obvious that his dick is hanging out and Chris is fully clothed.

"I don't like down time," Chris says, brushing off Mark's hold and Mark then feels like there's something weirder going on than the fact that he finally got to sleep with Chris Colfer.

"Hey, hey," Mark says, following Chris through the hallway and catching him around the waist before he can reach for his shoes. "What's going on? I thought we had something going here. Was I - was I just fucking making this up in my head?" Man, he wishes there'd been time to grab his underwear from the bedroom floor.

Chris gets quiet and shakes his head. His jaw clenches, but he doesn't start crying or anything, so Mark knows he's not acting.

"So, what?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

Mark rolls his eyes and steps back a little, but he keeps Chris' hand in his. "You know how gullible I am," he says, giving Chris his best wounded puppy look. "I'll believe anything you say, babe."

"So you'd believe me if I said my undershirt is bonded to my skin and is the only thing keeping me from world domination?"

Mark laughs and automatically says, "Sure!" He loves Chris' sense of humor.

Only Chris isn't laughing. Man, he must have practiced keeping a straight face with Jane all the time this last season in order to hold it now.

Mark, still sure Chris is joking, brings his free hand up to Chris' shoulder and pushes the collar of his t-shirt aside. He tries to work a finger under the strap of Chris' tank top, but somehow he can't get it to budge.

"Please, don't," Chris sighs, but Mark just frowns and tries again.

Then pulls his finger back and sticks it in his mouth. He takes it out long enough to ask, "Did your shirt just shock me?" before sticking it back in.

Chris' shoulders slump and he nods. "He says that hurt. Don't do it again."

"Iht _hurht_?" Mark asks, his finger still in his mouth. Popping it out, he continues, "What the fuck is going on?"

Chris rolls his eyes and huffs, but opens his mouth and says, "When I was fourteen, I got bored being homeschooled and tried to take over the world. I got as far as the nuclear launch codes for America, China, and Argentina before they caught me."

Mark wants to laugh again, but there's something about Chris' expression that takes the wind out of his sails. Now he _really_ wishes he was wearing pants. "And the shirt?"

"He's an AI monitoring device hooked into my spinal cord. If I don't stay away from everything politics and military, he alerts the authorities," Chris explains, like it's the millionth time he's said this. Who has he been telling this story to besides Mark?

"They couldn't just bug your computer or something?" Mark's sure he's having the most elaborate and the strangest sex dream of his life.

"This is the only thing they're sure I can't get around," Chris shrugs. "It's like having a tattle-tale hooked into my brain."

"Is that even legal?" Mark asks, risking a poke to Chris' shirt, as if to make sure he's not crazy. Though, if anyone was crazy in this situation it was Chris.

"No, but it was either this or life in prison, so..."

"And it-"

"He," Chris interrupts simply.

"And he talks to you?"

"On occasion." Chris gives Mark an assessing look before asking, "Why aren't you freaking out?"

Mark does laugh at that before replying, "Because I'm naked and you're not and I totally believe you almost took over the world. Is it weird that I find that hot?"

Chris grins and steps back out of his shoes.


	5. Boston Number 4

It happens over the engine of a Ford Focus, which is probably the least interesting car Kurt has ever worked on, but its owner seems to love it for some reason. He's got everything taken apart (well, as much as the way they manufactured the car will allow) and his hands are covered in oil and the filth of the road that he's had to clean out of this engine to get it working again. "Puck, hand me that wrench?"

He does and Kurt wonders how much longer Puck's going to stick around. He knows Puck almost has enough money to fund his pool cleaning dreams and Kurt is leaving for Boston tomorrow. Somehow Berklee found out he's a countertenor (Kurt blames Sam's YouTube videos) and offered him a scholarship. Kurt's not even sure he wants to study music anymore, but at least it's not musical theater, the mistress who turned him down. Maybe he'll study management, so he has a career to fall back on when everyone realizes he's not marketable as a singer.

Puck hands Kurt the wrench and clears his throat. He obviously has something to say.

"What?"

"I didn't tell you earlier, 'cause I was wait listed, but now I'm in."

Kurt smiles. He didn't even know his friend was applying to schools. "That's amazing! Where are you going? UCLA?" he asks, dropping his work and pulling Puck into a congratulatory hug.

"Nah," Puck replies, returning the hug more than Kurt thought he would. "I decided LA wasn't for me. I'm going to this music school in Boston. Pretty sure you know it."

Kurt's flabbergasted. "I don't have to do this alone?"

Puck nods and Kurt hugs him again. His mouth travels a mile a minute about dorms and classes as they get back to work and it's the first time he's been excited about anything since ... Well, since the event Kurt doesn't think about when he doesn't have the time to get in a good cry.


	6. Diversion 2

_This is the second diversion from the ongoing storyline._

"Okay, Mr. Puckerman," a guy wearing a business suit and glasses said. Puck noticed that his tie didn't really match his shirt and his hairline looked like it wanted to recede but hadn't quite got around to it yet. Maybe he was just focusing on these details so he wouldn't get his hopes up. "He's ready. Come with me, please."

Puck followed, sparing a nod for the man, as he was led into a maze of back rooms and finally to one at the end of a corridor.

"I'll give you a moment," the man said, opening the door, "before I come back to explain maintenance and our return policy."

Puck snorted. Like he would return it after everything he'd gone through. Then he was through the door, and choking off a sob at the sight of the man looking out the window. The California sunlight hit his face perfectly and Puck's knees went so weak that he stumbled into the exam table next to him.

"Noah," the man said softly, with a hint of sadness. He moved forward carefully as if not to scare Puck away.

As if Puck would leave after all that hard work and sacrifice. "I sold it," he confessed, wishing he could remember all those words, those better words, he'd practiced in the mirror every day for five years.

The man frowned, his brow at just the same angle of confusion that Puck remembered. "Sold what?"

"_Everything_," Puck replied, breathing out heavily as the weight of guilt lifted. "Our condo, all our things, the car. I sold everything and I worked three jobs just to get enough money to bring you back." He chuckled sadly, "And it's not even really you."

"Hey, don't do that," the man argued softly, getting close enough to reach out and lay his hand on Puck's shoulder. It was warmer than he thought it'd be.

"But you're-"

"I know. Believe me, two months of daily visits with the psychologist made me very aware of what I am now," interrupted the man. "And it's not how I imagined growing old with you, but it's better than nothing, right?"

Puck nodded and took Kurt's hand in his, marveling a little at how real the skin felt. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Kurt stepped closer and replied, "Well, stepping into the brain scanner at Artie's science show, obviously. They haven't told me how long it was between then and when I - I died."

"Not that long," Puck assured him, standing up straighter so they could face each other eye to eye like Puck remembered. "Seven months."

"Did we manage to go through with the wedding? Please tell me you didn't just spend almost a million dollars because I freaked out and left you at the altar or something and you just had to have me back as your personal sex bot. God, I would be so embarrassed!"

Puck looked, _really_ looked, at Kurt's expression and saw that same wry humor as always. Laughing loudly before silencing himself, "Puck asked, it really is you, isn't it?"

Kurt nodded. "I hope so."

Puck left his _me too_ silent, instead wiping a tear from his face and saying, "We did. Get married, I mean." He pulled at the chain around his neck, tugging it out of his shirt to reveal the slim silver band it was threaded through. "This is yours. I couldn't bury it with you."

"Oh!" Kurt cried, his lips pressed together with emotion. "It's perfect!"

"You picked it out."

Kurt laughed and nodded. "Of course I did." He wiped at his face, even though it was dry, like he should be crying and wasn't. "Can I have it back? Unless that's too weird for you, I mean."

Puck shrugged and undid the clasp at the back of his neck and let the ring fall off and into his palm. "It's a little weird," he admitted as he took Kurt's hand in his. "But that's cool. I just hope you don't mind the shithole of an apartment I've been living in while you were gone."

"While I was gone," Kurt repeated, watching as Puck slipped the ring onto his finger. "Sounds so much better than the truth."

"It's the way I had to think about it, you know?"

After a long pause where Kurt nodded and turned his ring around his finger with the other hand, he asked, "Will you kiss me? I'm sort of afraid it won't feel the same and you'll hate me and I'd rather get that over with right away if you don't mind."

"I don't mind." Puck had the same fears, that he'd gone through heartbreak and five long years of waiting only to be horribly disappointed, but he'd rather rip that band aid off as soon as possible, too. He took both of Kurt's hands in his and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against Kurt's lips.

Kurt kissed back and when Puck pulled away, he asked, "Well?"

Licking his lips, Puck replied, "Tastes different, but otherwise exactly the same."

A brilliant smile lit up Kurt's face, both joy and relief evident as he pulled Puck into a tight hug. "Will you take me home now?"

"Of course, babe. Of course I will."

As the couple walked away from the American Robotics and Cybernetics building, all shared smiles and hopeful hand-squeezes, Kurt spoke up again. "Oh, I wanted to ask you. Did you tell them to make my penis bigger?"

Puck grinned and hailed a cab. "I have no idea what you're talking about."


	7. Boston Number 5

Boston series #5

Kurt is meeting Puck at the party because they live across campus from each other (which isn't all that far, but still). Kurt has a room on-campus while Puck had to find something off-campus since he was wait listed for so long.

The party is held in some sort of ballroom or gym (Kurt can't quite tell which because the flooring is this ambiguous wood-print laminate) and is geared toward welcoming the freshmen, though they don't call it that. Kurt's roommate runs off somewhere to call his girlfriend, who lives in Montana, so Kurt's standing by himself next to the bar, trying to snag himself a sparkling cranberry juice. Or water. Water would be fine. It's August and sweltering in Boston and whatever excuse for air conditioning this building has just isn't cutting it.

"Hey," a voice startles Kurt out of his overheated haze and he looks around to see a boy who's slightly shorter than him with buzzed blonde hair and a hand sticking out for a shake. His smile is nice, so Kurt gives him the benefit of the doubt and returns the gesture. "Name's Peter."

"Kurt," he replies, vaguely mortified at how sweaty Peter's hand felt. Well, it _was_ as hot as hell in here. It couldn't be helped. The music's a little loud, so Kurt has to keep his voice raised as he asks, "So, Peter, where are you from?"

"Providence," Peter replies and Kurt admires the alliteration. "And your beautiful self?"

Surprised by the sudden compliment, Kurt fumbles for a moment before replying, "O-ohio."

Peter chuckles loudly, "Midwestern boy! Alright! No wonder you're so bashful and charming!"

If this was a year ago, Kurt would be preening under the praise, but as things stand now he is more flummoxed and uncomfortable than anything else. What does this boy want from him? What would Blaine think? Blaine's dead, but he's not gone from Kurt's heart and the dichotomy of the feeling has Kurt grasping for the words that will make this boy just go away.

When an arm slides behind his shoulders, Kurt almost freaks out, but then he recognizes Puck's voice as he says, "Hey, sweetheart. Who's your new friend?"

Kurt looks over at Puck to ask him what the hell he's doing, but Puck gives him a little eyebrow shimmy that probably means, _just go with it_. Well, Kurt is nothing if not a supreme actor. "Oh, there you are, pumpkin," Kurt replies, lacing his fingers with Puck's at his shoulder. "This is Pete.

"Peter, actually," he says, eyes widening a little at the sight of Puck's arms in the tank top he chose to wear that day because of the heat.

"_He_ thinks I'm bashful and charming," Kurt says, nuzzling his head against Puck's jaw. Peter-not-Pete looks like he might actually be scared and Kurt has to work hard to keep a straight face. "Why don't you ever say things like that to me?"

Puck doesn't miss a beat as he replies, "Because I'm too busy telling you what an animal you are in bed, snookums."

Peter gets this half-interested-half-uncomfortable look on his face as he looks down into his cup and says, "Oh, look at that! I need a refill!" He practically runs away.

As soon as he's out of earshot, Kirt starts laughing and pulls away from Puck, "I really didn't need saving, but thanks."

Puck replies, "Sure you did, dude. I could tell from across the room you so weren't into that guy. You can hit me back the next time an uggo wants in my pants."

Kurt's glad Puck doesn't ask if Blaine is the reason he isn't into Peter. It's nice having a friend - a wingman even - who takes everything at face value.


	8. Diversion 3 Dragon verse

_This belongs to my dragon shifter 'verse, which begins in the Klaine fic "Claim", continues in "30 Puckurt Drabbles" #12, and then in "The Fall" from "31 Accidents."_

"I knew you'd come," Kurt said with a sigh, packing another little trinket in his bag after wrapping it up in one of his drying cloths. "You can't change my mind."

Rachel frowned, her wings rustling and scraping in anoyance, "But what are you going to do? You've been training for this for so long."

Kurt shrugged a little and said, "I'm sure I'll think of something."

"And give up your whole life? No, you were born to do this, Kurt. You're the best rider here. You have to know that."

"And who would I ride, hm?" asked Kurt disdainfully. "I don't want a female and none of the males want to claim me. I'd end up a sad floater, filling in for riders who break their arms or get knocked up, never getting close to a dragon again, always reminded of what I used to have. I can't do it, Rachel!"

Kurt cinched closed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. "Sam promised to fly me into the city before lunch, so I've gotta go," he said, leaving his quarters, his home, quickly so he wouldn't look back.

Before he got far, he almost ran into a broad chest and a sad, hurt smile. "I'll claim you," Puck said softly, wings trembling.

"You've never claimed anyone before," Kurt scoffed, eying how best to grab and yank one of Puck's horns so he could get around the dragon and escape. "Why would you start now, for me?"

Puck looked Kurt dead in the eyes as he admitted, "Because this whole time, I've been _waiting_ for _you_."


	9. Boston Number 6

Boston Series #6

"This project sucks," Puck whined, flopping back onto Kurt's bed with a sigh. "Why does college have to be so hard?"

Kurt shakes his head and unfocuses his eyes as he replies, "I don't know. Because it's _college_?"

"Yeah, but I figured music school wouldn't be this bad. But come on! They're making me take fucking _English_class, dude! English!"

"You speak English, don't you?"

Puck rolls his eyes and huffs but doesn't say anything back, just stares at Kurt's dorm room ceiling for a few minutes while Kurt tries to focus on his History of the Stage reading and figure out where, exactly, the words stopped making sense.

His efforts are once again thwarted when Puck asks, "Dude, where's your roommate? Trevor? Travis?"

"Tyler's in Montana," Kurt replies, wishing there was an undo button for highlighting his text book, because he seems to have highlighted every word that's not a preposition.

"Why the hell is he in Montana? It's only the second week of school. What, did somebody die?"

"Not that I know of," Kurt replied, turning the page and assaulted with fresh, unhighlighted text. "I'm pretty sure he got homesick and dropped out. On Monday someone's going to come for his things."

Puck stayed silent long enough that Kurt thought maybe now he'd be able to focus, until he spoke up. "Wait. So you've got this whole room to _yourself_?" He scoffs loudly. "And I'm stuck in a roach motel of an apartment with three assholes who keep bugging me to join their shitty reggae band."

"And you wonder why I never visit." Kurt writes down what he thinks could be a key concept, but could really be an insignificant detail he'll never need to know. "Don't be too jealous. They're assigning me someone from the wait list later this week."

"Hey, I think I'm still on that list," Puck says, lifting up onto his elbows so he can grin at Kurt. "You think you could request me?"

Kurt scrunches up his brow and shrugs. "Do you really think we could live together without killing each other? I've seen the way you keep your room."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Puck asks, but he doesn't give Kurt the time to respond. "Whatever. You let me stay here, I'll be on my best behavior. I'll pick up all my shit and only have girls over while you're out."

The whole point of going to college is leaving Lima behind and having new experiences, even if Kurt was glad when he found out Puck was coming to his school, too. If they room together, Kurt is afraid he won't get out there and meet new people, like he'd always wanted to when he dreamed of going to college. On the other hand, it might be nice coming home to someone who knows his past and doesn't care. And there is always the outside chance, even at a performing arts school, that his next roommate will be a homophobic jerk.

"I'll ask the RA," Kurt says after a moment, nodding slightly. "No promises."

"Sweet," Puck agrees, lying back down and wiggling to make himself more comfortable. Kurt bites back the urge to tell Puck that's _his _bed and he specifically picked it because of the angle of sunlight first thing in the morning. But, it's not like Puck's moving in right this second and calling dibs, he's just avoiding his English project.

Kurt already had dibs, though. No contest.


	10. Diversion 4 Skank Kurt

"Hey, dude, can I bum a light?" Puck asks, leaning against the brick next to Kurt.

The guy takes another drag of his cigarette before digging in the pocket of his black leather jacket and handing over a dark pink Zippo. It matches the streaks in his hair and Puck can't help but admire the coordination, just a little.

Puck takes it and says, "Thanks." After lighting his own smoke, he flicks the lighter a few more times, just to see the sparks, and hands it back. He eyes the brow ring and the line of piercings crawling up the edge of Kurt's right ear. It makes him finger his own plug and wonder if it's time to move up to a bigger gage. He's been putting it off because of his ma's Jewish guilt trips over modifying his body like he has. Good thing she's never caught a glimpse of his tattoo. He side-eyes Kurt and wonders if the boy has any hidden tattoos as well. Might be kinda fun to go looking.

"You hang out with the Skanks a lot?" Puck asks, even though he knows the answer, 'cause he's had an eye on Quinn ever since their thing that one time. He hasn't been able to arrange a repeat performance, but he can't figure out why. Hasn't slowed him down in the mean time.

Kurt shrugs, takes a drag of his cigarette and lets it out slowly. Puck wonders what it'll take to get him talking.

"You know, they got a reputation –" He leans a little closer to Kurt and adds, "– for being _easy_."

Another shrug. No more, no less.

"I'll let you blow me under the bleachers during seventh."

Kurt takes a long-ass drag of his cigarette and lets out the smoke as he drops the butt and crushes it with his boot. He quirks that pierced eyebrow at Puck and finally says something, "Only if I get to fuck you first."

Puck says the first thing that pops into his head. "Fair enough."


	11. Boston Number 7

Boston #7

"Puck?"

Puck stops brushing and pushes enough of the toothpaste to one side of his mouth before answering, "Yeah?"

Kurt stands behind him, tying a scarf or something around his neck and using the mirror to get it straight. "I got an invitation to a Halloween party."

Puck finishes brushing and spits. "Is there gonna be booze? 'Cause on the one hand, sweet! But on the other, I could totally lose my scholarship. The lady sat me down and told me right to my face, if I get caught with that shit before my 21st, I'm going back to Ohio, so..."

Yeah, Puck knows he sounds lame, but he figured being a little lame is better than having to move back in with his mother. He can live dangerously by climbing that big rock wall at the gym and practicing his judo.

"Probably," Kurt replies. "I mean, I don't drink, but..."

Puck knows Kurt brought this up for a reason. He's not super big into idle chatter for chatter's sake, which makes him an awesome roommate in Puck's opinion, but also doesn't explain this conversation. "But, what?"

"Well, dressing up _would _be so much fun. This year, I'm thinking historical. The seventeenth century had some really amazing men's shoe fashions." Puck rolls his eyes, but he doesn't stop Kurt. "But then again, I don't know. I was invited to the party by a boy."

Puck quirks his eyebrow and tilts his head a little. He doesn't get it. "Half the popul-"

"Like, as a _date_," Kurt admits and his cheeks are almost as pink as that scarf around his neck.

"Don't go," Puck says before he even knows he's going to do it. _What the fuck, mouth?_"Uh - I mean, unless you really like this kid. Does he know about -?"

"B-blaine?" Kurt stutters on the name, and that's how Puck knows Kurt's not over it, even if it is almost winter again. Ten whole months since it happened.

Puck nods.

"No." Kurt pouts, stepping back and collapsing face-first onto his bed. The situation must have really got to him if he's laying down _after _getting dressed. "It's not like I have to tell everyone I meet, Noah."

Kurt's started calling him, "Noah." It reminds Puck of his nana, so he doesn't say anything. If an old dead chick was gonna talk to him through anyone, it would probably be Kurt. Not that he thinks she is, because he's not some psycho, but it's a nice thought.

"Yeah, sure," he replies, wondering w hy he's feeling snippy about this. "I'm gonna be a lame ass and go to the dorm party. Do whatever you want, dude. Hey, maybe getting laid'll make you feel better."

"You don't have to be a jerk about it," Kurt huffs, flipping over, his cheeks going red again.

"I'm not," Puck says, sitting on his bed and tugging on one of his shoes. He's pretty sure he is being a jerk. "I'm telling it like it is."

_Reviews are very much appreciated :)_


	12. Skank Kurt Number 2

Skank!Kurt #2

Puck stands under the bleachers in all his sexy (still clothed, in case someone comes by) glory. A minute later Kurt still hasn't jumped his bones. He just stands there, grinding his boot into the dirt. "Well? Are we gonna do this or what? Look, you've done it before, so just fucking get over here and let's–"

"I haven't," Kurt cuts him off with a scowl. "I was hoping I'd work up the nerve over lunch. Sorry." His apology is barely a breath, but Puck figures since he heard it, it counts.

"Do your friends know that?" he asks, flopping to the ground and making himself comfortable under the bleachers.

Kurt sits next to Puck in the dirt and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, tipping it so Puck can take one, which he does. "No. They think I used to sleep with this older guy who buys me beer."

Puck grimaces a little and then lights up with one of the matches from the book he found in his locker. Leaning toward Kurt as he blows out the smoke, he says, "I haven't slept with half the cougars people think I have."

"No?" Kurt asks, his scowl softening a little. He cracks his neck, looks away as he lights up, and says, "At least you have some idea of what you're doing. I mean, other than in theory."

Puck shrugs, grins, and says, "I know how you can make it up to me. I mean, I totally held up my end of the bargain and you gotta start somewhere. We'll call it educational. I mean, school ain't over for another hour."

Kurt lifts his eye brow and returns the smirk. "Lemme finish this first," he says, flicking the ashes from the tip of his cig. "And I'm calling my half of the deal in later. When I fucking get over myself."

"I could do you right now and get it over with." He looks over and sees that Kurt's tilting his head like he's considering all the reasons not to go through with Puck's offer and fiddling with his jacket cuff. Puck sees something dark against the pale white of Kurt's skin, so he asks, "Is that a tat?"

Kurt gives him this withering glare, like, "What do you think?"

"Can I see it?"

Kurt shrugs, takes one more drag of his cigarette and then pushes his sleeve up, giving Puck his wrist. The tattoo is a dead bird, belly up, with musical notes rising from its beak. "It's no flaming skull," Puck teases, rubbing his thumb over the decoration and feeling Kurt shudder, "but it's pretty bad ass." He pulls Kurt's wrist closer to him and kisses it. Kurt moans.

Blinking a few times, Kurt asks, "D'you have any?"

"Tats?"

Kurt nods.

Grinning, Puck tells him, "You're gonna flip." He undoes his belt and pulls the edge of his waistband on his left side far enough down his hip.

Kurt sets his cigarette aside and leans forward, brushing his fingers over the ink. "Is that a red-winged blackbird?"

Puck notices that Kurt's close enough to kiss, so he does it, tasting smoke and firm lips covered in soft-as-fuck skin. "Yeah, it is." What're the odds they'd both have bird tattoos? "My dad sang a song about them all the time. It was his favorite."

"And this date here? Did he die?"

Puck scoffs. "I wish. That's the day he walked out on my ma."

"Then why-?"

"So I never forget to keep hating the son of a bitch."


	13. Skank Kurt Number 3

Puck holds the ice cube against Kurt's chest using a thick hand towel, since having numb fingers is not a good idea right now. Kurt's shuddering a little as he holds the packaged needle and turns it over in his hands. "You're sure this's how they did yours?"

"Yeah, sure," Puck agrees. Well, he had his done by a professional in a shop using his fake ID, but it didn't look that hard. "That's the real kind of needle and everything. I swiped it when I got mine done."

Kurt sets the needle package down and nods at Puck. "That's enough."

Puck nods and washes his hands again before making sure the steel barbell is ready to go. He straddles Kurt's lap and lets his weight settle on those distracting thighs. With his left hand, Puck pinches Kurt's nipple to get it to stand up. Kurt wriggles below him at the touch. His skin is cold and pale from the ice and Puck wants to do this before it warms up again.

"Last chance to punk out, Hummel," Puck says, a challenge in his grin.

Kurt growls, "I ain't punking out. Do it."

Puck wonders if Kurt knows how high his voice gets when he's nervous, and smiles. He opens the needle package and takes the needle in his right hand. He pinches Kurt's nipple again with his left. To distract the kid, Puck leans forward and kisses him roughly.

He pushes the needle through and pulls it out the other side. Kurt throws his head back and gasps as Puck throws the needle into the sink and starts threading the barbell before there's too much blood to see what he's doing.

"Fuck!" Kurt gasps as he brings his head forward again. This time his voice is lower than Puck's ever heard it and he can't help but groan a little in response and turn his hips in a small, involuntary movement.

Kurt rocks his hips in response, but he's looking down at the piercing and wiping away the trickle of blood with one finger. "How does it look?" he asks as he slips the stained finger into his mouth and sucks on it.

Groaning, Puck rocks his hips and replies, "So fucking hot. Does it hurt?"

"I'll live."

"Badass," Puck grins and threads his hands through pink-streaked hair to pull Kurt's mouth up for another sinfully distracting kiss.


	14. Boston Number 8

They've been at the dorm Halloween party for three hours when it happens. Kurt's dressed as a seventeenth century nobleman and Puck's wearing white briefs and a red cape ("Captain Underpants, dude!"), which means the girls have been hanging off of him all night. Kurt is bored out of his mind. No one wants to talk to the overachiever in the period accurate costume.

And then suddenly, someone does.

"Louis the Sixteenth?" a voice to Kurt's left says and he turns to see a particularly cheerful lightbulb smiling at him.

"Close," Kurt nods, patting his wig. "His advisor, Jean-Frédéric Phélypeaux." He thinks over the stranger's costume for a moment before asking, "You're a bright idea?"

"Correct, my good fellow!" the boy says with a jovial little bounce. "I'm Eric, Seventh floor."

"Kurt. Fifth floor." He decides he really likes this boy's smile. He's a little softer looking body-wise than average and not exactly model handsome, but he's attractive and looks kind. And Kurt really needs kind right now. "I'm a double performance and management major. How 'bout you?"

"Songwriting," Eric replies and Kurt lights up because he's been meaning to figure out what sorts of classes a songwriting major takes. He opens his mouth to ask when suddenly Puck jumps in between them.

"There you are, babe," he says with a bright grin right before pulling Kurt into a lewd, disgustingly _wet_kiss. Or, it would be disgusting, except Kurt's body has decided to ignore the facts that Puck is not only his roommate, but also straight.

_Would a straight man be kissing you like this?_

Kurt pushes back at Puck's shoulders not nearly as early as he should have and when he looks past Puck, Eric is wandering away. Kurt again opens his mouth to speak, this time in protest, but Puck presses a finger that smells like Doritos to his lips.

Leaning in, Puck says in a quiet voice, "Just go with it, alright? You owe me one."

"But ... _bright idea_," Kurt pouts, pointing after Eric.

"Noah?" a female voice asks and Kurt turns to see an angel wearing a frown that looks like it's going to stick that way. Or maybe it already has. "Who's this?"

Puck puts an arm around Kurt's waist, pulls him close, and says, "Daisy, Kurt. Kurt, Daisy. Kurt and I are in love."

"Uh huh," Daisy says with this skeptical look that makes Puck pull Kurt into another very showy kiss.

Kurt thinks he should probably say no, but he doesn't.


	15. Skank Kurt Number 4

Kurt, standing behind the liquor store (sadly without any liquor), finished one smoke and dug around in his jacket pocket for another. Finally braking the silence of almost ten minutes, Quinn raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "Noah Puckerman?"

"What?" Kurt scoffed, scratching the back of his leg with the opposite boot.

"He's a _jock_," she said scornfully and Kurt wondered if she really was as happy about being kicked off the Cheerios during freshman year as she always said she was.

"He plays football," Kurt agreed, "but he's actually pretty cool."

Quinn scoffed. "Of course you'd say that. You're sleeping with him, after all."

Kurt didn't want to correct Quinn and tell her that he'd fooled around with Puck a few times but they hadn't slept together yet. She'd just call him a naive child or something. He was just waiting for it to feel right - and to have some time alone with Puck somewhere other than under the bleachers or in the back of his car.

"What's your fucking problem with him, Q?"

Shaking her head, she said, "You wouldn't get it. You don't see what an asshole he can be," and walked away.

Kurt watched her go and figured maybe he'd have to ask Puck about what she meant the next time they hung out. It wasn't like he was going to stop seeing Puck just because Quinn had a problem with him. In fact, he little warning made Kurt all the more eager to see Puck again. Maybe Kurt would sneak him in after the next time his Aunt Mildred drank herself to sleep.

He rubbed his chest a little, grinning at the ache in his freshly pierced nipple and decided sneaking Puck in absolutely _had_to happen.


	16. Boston Number 9

"We should really talk about it."

Puck looks up from where he's got his face smashed into his mattress and one hand blocking the sunlight assaulting him since Kurt opened the curtains far too early. "Talk about what?"

Kurt sits on his bed across the room, which is really only four feet away, and rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward to catch Puck's eye. "You kissed me last night."

Oh, so he's just going to jump right on that, then. "So?"

"So... Well, it was more the _way_ you kissed me," Kurt's skin was more pink than white now and Puck felt a sharp shiver of pain or maybe want deep in his chest. "I'm _gay_, Puck. You can't just _do that_because you want some girl to stop harassing you."

"Dude, I thought we were friends?" Puck asks in a plaintive voice. He knows bringing up their friendship is a manipulative, dickish move, but he does it anyway. "Plus, you owed me one. How was I gonna sell it _without_kissing you?"

"You should have found a way!" Kurt's voice is rough now with anger and that slice of something grows in Puck's chest. He's way too confused for a day he doesn't have class, so he knows he won't be figuring out what it is anytime soon.

"But wh-?"

"Because I have to live with you and your stupid, attractive lips!"

Kurt's blush is at full burn and Puck finally gets it. "Oh."


	17. Skank Kurt Number 5

_The idea for Kurt's living arrangement comes from my friend, Dragon_

Puck stops trailing kisses down Kurt's bare back and growls, "Where the fuck did this come from?"

Kurt's disoriented and most of the blood isn't in his brain anymore, so he's having trouble understanding Puck's question. "What?"

"Where the _fuck_did this fucking giant-ass bruise come from?" Puck asks, prodding it a little with one finger, which makes Kurt groan. "Is someone around school ragging on you? Is it that Azimio shithead? If you want, I'll pin him down while you cut off his junk."

"Shut the fuck up, Puckerman," Kurt replies, pulling away and reaching for his ripped, gray wifebeater. "It was just an accident."

"Bull shit." Puck grabs Kurt's top before he can get it over his head and throws it across the room. He catches Kurt's wrists in a tight grip and holds them together at the small of Kurt's back. "What sort of accident? The kind where there's someone to blame? Someone whose nuts I can kick up into his throat?"

Kurt struggles in Puck's grip and cries, "Fuck off. It was just..."

"Just what?" Puck asks in Kurt's ear, letting his wrists slip loose. Relief at being freed rushing through his body like a breath of cool air, Kurt rubs his wrists and tells Puck, "It was just Aunt Mildred. Last night she was drunk out of her mind and stumbled into me and I hit the kitchen counter. Satisfied?"

"No." Puck pouts, but he doesn't say anything more about revenge. Instead, he leans his head against Kurt's and says softly, "Let's bail on this shithole, baby. Let's just get in my truck and keep driving until we hit ocean."

Kurt didn't realize it, but this is what he's been waiting for - someone who wants to be part of the future he hasn't let himself think about since the car crash that killed his parents. Thinking about the future is useless, though, because everyone knows that punks like Kurt and Puck never _leave_Lima.

So Kurt doesn't answer. Instead, he kisses Puck hard, pushes him onto the bed, and reaches for the bottle Puck bought almost two months ago, but they haven't opened yet.

Later, Kurt presses the Puck's shoulders down against the mattress and asks without sympathy, "Does it hurt?"

"Fuck, yeah," Puck replies, panting into his hands, "but that's what makes it so good, babe."

He decides he really likes hurting Puck this way and maybe he won't ever stop.


	18. Boston Number 10

The awkward tension lasts for what feels like days until finally Kurt says in a soft voice, "Do you think we should ask for different roommates?"

Puck's been working on his homework (god, he's such a sucker now), so he has to turn away from his book to look over at Kurt. He replies, "Fuck, no. I don't wanna move! You're an awesome roommate."

Kurt smiles a little with one corner of his mouth. "I'm not sure I can say the same, but I can't keep living like _this_."

Puck puts down his book and sits up so he can turn around to really look at Kurt. "All freaked out because you think I'm sexy, but I don't do dudes?"

"Exactly."

Puck scratches his chin and asks, "So you're getting over him, huh?"

Kurt's surprised and he blurts out, "What?"

"Blaine," Puck elaborates. "You're getting over him if a little light making out has got you all worked up. Awesome, dude!"

It looks like Kurt's going to take a few minutes to mull that over - probably never occurred to him that he wouldn't pine over his dead boyfriend forever, which is stupid, because his own dad got remarried after his wife died. While Kurt's mouth is still opening and closing, looking for the words he needs, Puck says, "Look. Let's just say, you and me? _Never_gonna happen. And leave it at that. See? No one needs to move anywhere."

"Oh, okay." Kurt nods, still looking shell shocked.

Puck wonders why his heart is beating like he just told a lie.


	19. Boston Number 11

Kurt's been working on his essay in the library for the past four hours, far away from the distractions of his room, when someone sits down heavily in the chair next to his. "'Sup?" Puck asks with a subtle nod of his head.

Puck is the last person Kurt wants to see, to be honest. Yes, Puck made his motivations clear, but that doesn't make them any easier to accept. And that isn't even mentioning what he'd said about getting over Blaine. Kurt wasn't getting over him, right? Well, sure, it had been almost a year, but it felt like less than Blaine deserved.

And yet Kurt finds himself _looking_. Well, looking isn't so bad, right? He shouldn't feel guilty for looking. One amendment, though: he shouldn't feel guilty for looking at guys who aren't his straight roommate.

"What do you want, Puckerman?" Kurt asks, only briefly looking up from his work. "I'm in the middle of something."

"You're always in the middle of something lately, man," Puck points out, easing the pen out of Kurt's hand. "Just listen for a sec, okay?"

Kurt has nothing to be ashamed or guilty over, so he looks Puck in the eye and says, "Okay. I'm listening."

Puck looks a little vulnerable, like he's going to confess something big, but then he smirks and says, "I got you a date with that Eric dude from our dorm."

"Oh," Kurt says in reply, because he really wasn't prepared for Puck to say anything of the sort. "Um. Thank you?"

"Yeah, well I figure I owed you one. Besides, the more dudes you kiss the less you'll think about me." Puck grins and winks at Kurt before clapping him on the back. "Eric's gonna call you about the where and when, dude. I'll see you back at the room."

Kurt doesn't reply, merely watches Puck walk away and wonders if he knew he was flirting. Probably not, damn him.


	20. Skank Kurt Number 6

"I'm sorry to have to call you at this hour, Miss Hummel, but it says here that you're your nephew Kurt Hummel's guardian. Is that correct?"

Mildred grumbles into the phone, "That's right. What'd the little bastard do this time?"

"We're writing him up for indecent exposure," says the officer or whoever the fuck is calling Mildred at 12:30 in the morning. He clears his throat. "But really he was found in the Lima Memorial Fountain this evening, engaging in, um, personal relations. He and his, uh, _friend_resisted arrest."

In the background, Mildred can hear her nephew's gratingly high voice cry, "...didn't resist ... imbicile! ... _told_you ... almost done!"

Mildred's head is pounding and her mouth tastes like raspberry schnapps gone wrong, which is interesting, because she could have sworn it was Tuesday - half-price margarita day at Lou's. Rubbing the sleep and the beginning of a hangover from one eye, Mildred asks, "When do I gotta come get him? Don't tell me right now, because if I drive right up to the police station like this, you'll fuckin' arrest me."

"Oh, um," the officer replies, like he hadn't considered the possibility that some people had better things to do than collect their dead brother's ingrate kid from jail in the middle of the night. "Then I suppose we'll send him along in a patrol car to remand him to your custody. You are still at 321 Birch Road?"

Rolling her eyes and the ignorance of, "Lima's Finest," Mildred grunts, "Yeah. Apartment three," and hangs up the phone.

When the knock comes at her door fifteen minutes later, Mildred has her dressing gown wrapped around her and a drink in one hand. "C'mon in," she waves to the officer, ignoring the concerned frown he gives her. Mildred was good enough to take in her brother's weirdo son, she doesn't need high and mighty types frowning at her for needing a drink in the middle of the night. "I am _so sorry_, Officer," she says with an underplayed of sarcasm that he may or may not pick up on. "The scamp snuck out while I was sleeping."

The officer eyes all the piercings and the dyed hair but he says, "Boys will be boys, I suppose, especially when romance is involved."

Mildred cackles a little at the thought of anyone being attracted to Kurt. She turns to he nephew and asks, "So who's the girl? That Quinn you're always hanging out with?"

Kurt tilts his chin up defiantly and says, "Noah Puckerman."

Jesus Christ, she should have known he nephew was a pervert with all the crazy things he'd done to his appearance and that sky-high voice of his. Mildred rolls her eyes and says, "Whatever. Go to bed."

Kurt stomps away, giving her the finger and Mildred cringes. She's going to have to make nice with the downstairs neighbors again. At least it's only another year until the pervert graduates and is out of her house.

She turns to the policeman and asks, "So how much do I owe ya?"

He rips a ticket from his book and hands it to her, saying, "Mr. Hummel's court date is on there. If he doesn't appear, the judge will write a warrant for his arrest."

Mildred thinks about not telling Kurt when he has to be at the courthouse so that someone will finally take him off her hands, but she figures she's made it this long without getting in trouble with the state and those paychecks for taking him in are far too sweet to give up on now.


	21. Boston Number 12

Kurt ends up having a really nice time with Eric during their study date and they make plans to go to this coffeehouse show one of Eric's friends is singing at that Thursday night. Kurt figures that even if he and Eric don't end up hitting it off, he needs to meet more (different) people.

At the show, Kurt buys the coffee and delivers it to Eric with a flourish, "Your drink, my good sir!"

Eric laughs his, "Thank you!" and entwines his fingers with Kurt's as they talk and wait for the live music to start. Eric isn't as familiar as Kurt is with the intricacies of musical theater as Kurt is, but he definitely seems eager to learn, saying, "My family would never let me watch because I would sing along and, well, I'm a _horrible_singer. I think the last musical I actually saw was Mulan, maybe."

Kurt laughs and tries not to overthink the simple human contact, because he's enjoying the hell out of it. And then someone pulls a chair up to their table and sits down heavily. "Hey, dudes! I didn't know you were gonna be here!"

"Puck," Kurt replies with an icy glare, trying to signal Puck with his eyes that he should go the fuck away. He doesn't get the message, though, even when Kurt kicks his shin. "What _exactly_are you doing here?"

"Some guy told me about the open mic and I figured I'd brush up on my performing skills. How about you?" Puck says happily, though his brows twitch upward when his eyes land on Kurt and Eric's intertwined fingers.

Kurt opens his mouth to answer, but Eric's already on it. "Noah, _I_told you about this place. When I said I was bringing Kurt here on a date? Which is tonight? Remember?"

Kurt can't tell if he's happy Eric doesn't want Puck there either, or if he's a little annoyed by the way Eric chose to express himself in a series of wishy-washy questions instead of statements. Kurt's not incredibly experienced in the ways of romance, but shouldn't he be completely blind to these little annoyances while dating Eric is still so new?

"But, there's nowhere else to sit." Puck looks around at the rest of the coffee house and Kurt does the same. While he's been talking to Eric, the seats around them and even most of the standing room has filled up. "You guys don't mind if I stay, do you? I swear, Kurt, I'll keep all my shit picked up around the room from now on. Eric? I'll owe you one!"

Eric shrugs and looks to Kurt with a pleading expression that says he'd like to let Puck stay. Kurt rolls his eyes and says, "Fine! But you're washing your sheets tomorrow. They're starting to creep me out."

"But I just moved in, like two months ago. They're fine."

Kurt resists the urge to throttle his roommate and merely rolls his eyes before turning back to Eric. "So, tell me more about these Jazz greats you're so fond of."

Conversation flows from there, both Kurt and Eric ignoring Puck, until he says, "I'm up next, dudes. Wish me luck!"

"Break a leg!" Kurt insists, still annoyed that his date had an admittedly quiet third wheel.

Puck gets up to the mic and introduces himself before saying, "This is for someone awesome." Kurt doesn't know what to make of the statement and then Puck launches into a slow acoustic version of "Let's do it (Let's fall in Love)." Kurt would think the song is for his date with Eric, but the way Puck looks at him makes Kurt think maybe it's a plea. A cry for attention, maybe? Kurt wonders what kind of girl Puck likes these days and wonders if any of the acquaintances he's made since the beginning of the school year would fit.


	22. Skank Kurt Number 7

"So how much trouble are you in?" Kurt asks, his breath warm on the back of Puck's ear.

Puck shrugs and continues drawing on his arm with his black marker. He's really digging skulls today, but they're just not coming out as badass as he wants them to. Maybe some terrifying red eyes?

"Puck, talk to me."

"About what?" he says gruffly, looking over his shoulder so Kurt can see his face and the black eye there. "About how my ma kicked the shit outta me after the cops told her what we were doing?"

Kurt growls a little and pulls Puck by the jaw so he can get a better look at the bruise. Puck lets him. "She had no fucking right."

Puck nods in agreement and shivers when Kurt presses the pad of his thumb into the bruise. It makes him feel wanted, useful, owned. Licking his lips, he says, "She wants me to go back to dating girls."

Kurt lets up on the pressure and smooths his hand down Puck's unmarked cheek. "Do you want to go back to dating girls? Being the perfect high school football star?"

"Fuck, no, babe," Puck replies, taking Kurt's hand from his face and kissing the dead songbird tattoo above his wrist. "I'm not that guy. Never was."

"No, I guess not," Kurt says wistfully. He takes Puck's face in his hands and pulls him up into a tight kiss, ignoring the study hall monitor when she calls across the cafeteria at them.


	23. Prehistoric AU

Puck stands, his back against a rock wall, with only his broken spear to defend himself from the bear snarling at him. "Mother, be merciful," he prays as he eyes the beast's long, sharp teeth. He's dead. He knows it and the bear knows it, even as Puck crouches down to reach for a large rock with which he might be able to smash the bear's mouth before it kills him.

Just as the beast rears up to come after him, an arrow sings through the air and into the bear's eye. It's not at the right angle to kill the animal, but the injury does send it retreating into the forest.

"Ho, friend," a voice calls from the cliff above. Puck catches his breath as the man climbs down the shallower face of the wall a ways down and then trots over to him. He grins as he says, "Stupid, Puck! You almost got yourself eaten!"

Puck feels his face go hot with shame and says, "I wasn't even hunting bear today. My thanks, Kurt. My mother would have cursed my name for falling to such a death. I must repay your favor."

Kurt waves him off with a hand gesture and a funny little noise. "You would have done the same for me."

"Oh, I definitely would have." Puck grins as he watches Kurt find the path back to the village. "Your hips have an enticing swing to them, friend. Such beauty shouldn't be a bear's meal."

Kurt turns and grins at Puck. "Flatterer."

Puck catches up to Kurt and leans close before asking, "Who warms your cot these days, Mighty Bear's Bane?"

Kurt laughs. "Bear's Bane! I like it!"

"You did not answer..."

Kurt gives Puck an assessing look before saying, "I did not shoot the bear to get your favor."

"I'm giving it anyway," Puck says, stepping close enough that he can lay a hand on Kurt's waist. "I like my mates _strong_."

"Maybe _I_don't like mates who almost get themselves eaten," Kurt says with a mischievous smile. "And if you want strong, why not go after David Warriorslayer? He killed the invaders and he favors men."

As they reach the edge of the village and wave to the watch man, Puck replies, "Well, I like my mates strong _and_pretty. David Warriorslayer is not pretty."

Kurt laughs and looks around them at who might overhear. Lowering his voice, he says, "You speak the truth, friend." He gives Puck another long look. "Meet me at the fire tonight. You may get your favor."


	24. Skank Kurt Number 8

_I had to change the rating to M for this one! Warning: blood play._

Puck's laying in Kurt's bed with his arm slung over his eyes to block out the early afternoon light. Skipping class today has to be Kurt's best idea ever. The silence stretches from when they'd crashed into Kurt's house after third hour and quickly got off through a lunch hour nap and up until now, when Puck tries valiantly to get back to sleep.

But then Kurt stirs, kicking off his remaining boot and the jeans that were stuck on one leg because of it. He rolls and mouths his way up Puck's hip until he bites at the bone with sharp teeth. Puck sucks in a surprised breath and shudders, "_Fuck_!"

Kurt rests his head on his arm, breath hot against Puck's side and all the vulnerable skin there. His free arm traces patterns around Puck's belly button as he whispers, "If I wrote my name on your skin, how long do you think it would take to fade?"

Puck shrugs, arm still over his eyes, and says, "Depends what sort of pen you use." He can feel Kurt tracing the letters of his name with the tip of one finger. "Only mark permanent is a scar."

Kurt sucks in a breath and rolls on top of Puck's right leg. "There's a thought."

Puck uncovers his face and props himself up on his elbows so he can see the dangerous, thrilling glint in Kurt's eyes. It makes his dick twitch, just under Kurt's breast bone. Puck asks, "You want to scar me?"

"Yes," Kurt replies, tracing the patch of skin just above where Puck's short and curlies begin. "I want to carve my name into your skin. So you never forget me."

"I could never forget you, baby," Puck argues, though he has to admit he's intrigued. "Think of the bitch-fit my mom will throw when she sees it!"

"No!" Kurt growls dangerously and presses Puck down with two heavy hands on his chest. "I'm the only one who gets to see it. I do this and you're _mine_, Puckerman. For as long as the scars stay on your skin."

Puck swallows loudly and nods. Kurt's weight on his chest is making it hard to breathe. He's dizzy and hard and itching, _aching _for the pain. Nodding, he whispers, "Make them deep. Forever."

"Put your underwear back on," Kurt orders as he lifts himself away and walks naked across to his bathroom. Puck finds his Batman briefs on the hallway floor and pulls them on before going back to the bed. When Kurt returns, he's carrying a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a razor blade.

Puck shivers.

"Last chance to punk out," Kurt says with an upraised brow.

Puck looks him right in the eye and says, "I ain't punking out."

After a long moment staring at one another, Kurt nods. He straddles Puck's legs and pulls the waistband of his underwear down to expose the soft skin of his lower belly. The fabric pulls Puck's hard cock down and away, making him want to rut against the pressure. It's when Kurt splashes cold alcohol on his skin and wipes down the razor blade with more of the liquid that Puck realizes that this is actually going to happen. He makes himself stop holding his breath.

"Don't move," Kurt orders, slithering down so his chest is weighing down Puck's thighs and his off hand holds Puck's belly, just below his diaphragm. With so much concentration it's almost scary, Kurt presses his blade against Puck's skin and draws a slow line down. Puck hisses and fights the urge to arch his back against the pain, trying to focus on the clean, stinging pain of the cut. Puck looks down and sees that the inch-long wound is starting to well up with a thin line of blood.

Kurt dips his head and lays his tongue flat against the wound, licking up the blood. His tongue is warm and wet, soothing away the pain and Puck groans. "God, baby. Yes!"

Two more quick cuts at angles form a "K" and Puck is in blissful agony as Kurt prods one of the cuts with his tongue. The blade is sharp enough and the cut narrow enough that he can't pull the skin apart with his tongue alone, but God, Puck wishes he could. He wants Kurt inside him in any way possible, but he knows if he voices his need out loud, Kurt's just going to turn contrary and draw things out even slower.

By the time Kurt finishes the "R," his clever tongue following each of the cuts in turn, Puck is drenched in sweat and shaking with the effort to keep still. He's fighting the urge to push Kurt away in self preservation and the urge to rut against Kurt's chest for some sort of relief.

Every breath, every beat of his heart feels far too intense, like Kurt cutting him open has made him aware of just how badly he fits in his skin and how much better he would feel finally free of it and floating just as a soul or a ghost or whatever. Of course, he knows that without his body, he wouldn't be feeling what he'a feeling, so he stuffs his awareness back into his body just as Kurt finishes crossing his "T."

"There," Kurt says with a proud lilt to his voice, meeting Puck's eyes as he dips down to lick that last line of blood away. Puck comes in his Batman underwear, untouched.


	25. Boston Number 13

Puck has been writing a song for his composition class for three weeks before he realizes what it's about. He freaks out in one of the basement practice rooms and bending the music stand when he throws it against the wall. This can't be happening to him. Not now. Not after he made it perfectly clear where he stood and even went as far as setting Kurt up with his new boyfriend.

Jesus, he's such an idiot. It's not like this is the first time he's been through this, either. No one seems to remember that while Puck was dating Santana, he set up Finn and Quinn. At the time he thought Quinn was super hot, like a pixie, and that if she stayed single, sooner or later he'd do something stupid and Santana would rip off his junk with her bare hands in revenge.

Crushing on Quinn was one thing. They were in high school and Quinn was a hot girl. Crushing on his (male) college roommate is a whole different story.

Once he's done throwing his fit and bends the music stand back as well as he can (the metal will always have a creased scar), Puck picks up his guitar and sits with it in his lap so he can think. Point number one: Kurt is awesome and finally starting to look happy again and Puck would just fuck all that up if it turns out, whoops, the whole dick thing is just not something he's into. Point number two: when that realization happens, one of them is going to move out and Puck will have to deal with shitty roommates again. Point number three: Puck still needs to finish writing this song, because the draft is due tomorrow.

He decides he needs a plan. He decides he first has to finish this song, only change the pronouns so it's about a girl. Second, he locks up his guitar in his instrument locker and steps out into the late afternoon sun, heading through the chilly Boston wind to the QSA that Kurt pointed out to him the first week of class.

Third, he finds a dude there who's tallish and lean and wearing a vest like the ones Kurt wears sometimes. He introduces himself as Doug. Puck says his name is Sam and can they go somewhere to talk?

He decides that as long as he pretends Doug is Kurt, the whole dick thing is definitely _not _a problem.

The problem is that when he gets back to the dorm room, Kurt and Eric are snuggled together watching a musical and there's nothing Puck can do about it that won't make him look like a complete asshole. He collapses onto his bed, exhausted, and tries to forget everything but the Patriots' starting line up.


	26. Magic AU

"I found it!" Kurt cried, thrusting up a dusty tome above the mountain of books he'd been sifting through for the last hour.

Puck grumbled, "About time!" He shifted to lean forward in his seat, glaring at the sorcerer. "You're sure this will work?"

"You're sure you can deliver on my payment?"

Puck rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Then it'll work," Kurt insisted, sitting down next to Puck and spreading the book out in front of them. "This spell will find your daughter."

"Awesome. What do we need to do first?" Puck asked, a worried frown creasing his brow.

Kurt smirked and replied, "I need the first half of your payment."

"The first half? How does that even work? Put in just the tip?"

Kurt laughed and replied, "Alright, more of a good faith payment, then. I want you to kiss me."

"Oh." Puck nodded, leaning closer to the man who was going to find where his daughter had been taken. "That I can do."


	27. Boston Number 14

Puck comes to the conclusion that agreeing to go on a blind double date with Kurt, Eric, and Kurt's friend Holly is the stupidest thing he's ever done. Like, he figured letting Kurt set him up was a good thing because it would take his mind off his stupid crush or whatever, but this double date is killing him. He's sitting there resenting Eric for having his hand in Kurt's and resenting Kurt for dating the guy and resenting Holly for not being Kurt.

This sucks.

"Are you okay, Noah?" Kurt asks halfway through dinner. "You look a little..." Puck is sure Kurt's going to say something like pissed off or frustrated or out of his mind. He says, "...ill."

Puck says, "I'm fine," just before he realizes that Kurt gave him the perfect way out of this fucking mess but Puck was too stupid to take it.

At the end of the night, Puck awkwardly tells Holly he probably won't call, thanks. She looks relieved.

When Puck gets back to his room, the lights are off and Kurt's under the covers, probably asleep. Puck kicks off his shoes and pants and throws his jacket onto his desk chair. He gets into bed in his boxers and a t-shirt like always. Before he falls asleep, Kurt's voice breaks the darkness. "What happened tonight? Was I really that far off with Holly?"

"No," Puck replied and he wasn't even lying. "She was great. Kickass body."

"Then what?"

"She's not..." _you_. Puck sighed. "There's someone else."

Kurt tsked and asked, "Why did you let me set you up, if you're interested in someone else?"

"Missed my shot. Taken."

After a long silence, Kurt asks, "What's her name?"

Puck pretends to be asleep.


	28. Skank Kurt Number 9

Whenever he's alone, or at least reasonably sure no one's paying attention to him, Puck picks at the scabs on his lower belly. He likes it when they bleed and he hopes that the more he picks at them and the longer it takes for them to heal, the better they'll scar. Plus, he likes the constant reminder of what Kurt's done to him. He feels turned inside out and exposed, every nerve raw and wanting.

He feels like love's bitch and he doesn't even care. He feels safe.

Puck saves up his money for something. He's not quite sure for what, but he figures Kurt will know. Maybe they'll ditch this place and live out of Puck's truck until they figure out what the hell to do with the rest of their lives. Maybe they'll just stay in Lima and rot away.

One afternoon, Puck finds Kurt hanging out with his Skank friends, so he joins them, putting an arm around Kurt's waist and ignoring the glares some of the girls give him. He thinks the multiple fake IDs and the Mohawk and the tattoo and the ear studs and the nipple piercing and Kurt's name carved into the skin not too far above his cock all mean they should count themselves lucky to have him in their group, but he's not there for them so they can all go fuck themselves. Especially Quinn.

"Hey, baby," Kurt greets him, petting his strip of hair from front to back and tugging a little at the hair just before his neck. Puck resists the urge to get on his knees. "We were just talking about what it's gonna be like when we get outta this place."

"Yeah?" Puck asks, taking a cigarette out of the pack in his back pocket and lighting it. He takes two drags before handing it over to Kurt. "What's the consensus?"

"Fame and fortune," Quinn replies, her voice heavy with sarcastic disdain. "What else?"

"Oh, really?" Puck smiles, nudging his nose against Kurt's ear because he fucking loves the smell there. "How are you guys gonna get rich and famous?"

Some big chick, who Puck never learned the name of, says, "I'm gonna get on a reality TV show."

Another says, "I'm gonna win the lottery."

Puck sees Quinn rolling her eyes and she meets his before insisting, "I'm going to be a movie star."

Kurt's the only one who hasn't spoken about his dream when he says, "Excuse us, ladies. We've got some business to attend to." He pulls Puck toward the equipment shed that's never locked and shoves him inside. Puck knows what sort of business this is and finally gives into the urge to drop to his knees. Kurt's mouth opens a little in surprise, though, so maybe Puck's mistaken. "What? No, get up, Noah."

"But..." Puck protests, even as he follows orders.

Kurt's got that dangerous look in his eye, the one that sends Puck's heart beating a million times a second. "I've had an idea."

Kissing his boyfriend softly, reverently and not quite impatiently, Puck says, "I like your ideas, babe."

"Hey." Kurt snaps his fingers in front of Puck's face and frowns. "Focus here, alright? I figured out how we're getting out of this shit town."

"How?" Puck's sure he'll follow Kurt anywhere. It's safe with Kurt. No one can hurt him.

Kurt gathers a small section of Puck's t-shirt in each of his hands, and pulls him close. "You and I are forming a band."


	29. Boston Number 15

Kurt finds his roommate in the dining hall, even though it is _supposed _to be locked this late at night. He can smell the alcohol before he reached Puck and frowns at the implication. "What are you doing here?"

Puck starts, turning to look at Kurt over his shoulder. His eyes are lidded and unfocused. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like," Kurt says, sitting down next to Puck, "you're trying to forget something. The girl who's taken, maybe?"

Puck laughs, loud and with a messy snort. "I fucked up. I fucked it all up. I just ... I didn't _know_."

Kurt looks a little closer in the dim light and notices that Puck is tearing up a little. He knows it's not just a trick of the light when Puck presses his fingers into his eyes. Softly he says, "Hey, hey. It's alright. It'll be fine, you'll see." Kurt places a hand on Puck's shoulder and jumps when Puck shrugs him off roughly. "I just want to help."

Jaw clenching, Puck shakes his head for a moment before looking - _really _looking at Kurt. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but looks away before it comes out. Shaking his head again and dropping it into his hands, Puck finally asks, "So you and Eric. Is that getting serious?"

Kurt's not sure why he's changed the topic, but he answers truthfully, "I don't think so. I mean he's nice and I like him, but things aren't like they were with-with Blaine."

The air between them is very still for a long, confusing moment and Kurt wishes Puck would just turn so it would be easier to read his face, to figure out what's going on here. Well, what's going on here is Puck is drunk and depressed and needs a friend, so Kurt decides to break their standstill by getting to his feet and saying, "C'mon. I'm taking you to bed."

Puck whips his head up to look at Kurt with first confusion, then hope, then some sort of defeated understanding. He gives Kurt his hand and stands up, head hanging. As Kurt leads them out of the dining hall, he mulls over his words and Puck's reaction until finally when they get to the elevator bank he asks, "Is it me?"

Puck looks past the lobby and out to the street, but nods and Kurt's ability to breathe just _stops_. He can't breathe and he definitely can't think so when he finds himself pulling on Puck's chin so the guy will just _look _at him already, it's more than a little surprising. Puck's eyes are bloodshot and defeated and he sighs. "I'll move my shit in the morn-"

Kurt cuts him off with a kiss. Puck tastes like alcohol and boy and he groans deep in his throat as he returns the kiss in a way that makes Kurt's heart leap. This time it's not for show. It's just Kurt and Puck and an empty lobby and Kurt feels a little sorry about Eric, but mostly he thinks about how right this feels as Puck pulls him closer and smiles against his lips.


	30. Fuckurtofsky verse future fic

_A return to my Fuckurtofsky 'verse._

Sighing as he shuffled through the apartment, Kurt called ahead, "When did it get so empty in here?"

Noah shrugged and watched Kurt enter the living room, motioning for him to join Noah on the couch, which he did. "Just you and me, babe," he said, pulling Kurt's arm around his shoulder. "You ever think we'd see the day when Irene moved out?"

"No," Kurt chuckled, hugging Noah's shoulders close and kissing his husband's temple. "I think at thirty-four it was definitely time."

"Has she called? Like, is she okay and everything?"

Rolling his eyes, Kurt insists, "She's fine. I know she's your baby and everything, but you have to learn to trust her to make good decisions."

Noah sits forward in his seat and grabs his mug of coffee from the table, bringing it to his lips and taking a long, slow sip. Once he swallowed, he said, "I know that, babe. I've raised three kids."

"You had help!"

"Not _that _much help." Kurt smacked Puck's leg. "Oh, you! If Finn and Dave were here, they'd back me up on this."

The air sours a little. It's been a long time since Finn was with them. Almost ten years since the crash. Dave's loss was more recent. Pancreatic cancer – next to impossible to diagnose in time, even with recent advancements in medicine. Kurt looked at his husband and wondered which of them would be next and which would hang on, alone, for years afterward.

"Hey," Noah said as he set down his mug, "don't get morose on me, Hummel. Not again."

"I can't help it," Kurt insisted. "It's this place. So many memories."

"And so much space we're not using," Noah pointed out, laying his head on Kurt's shoulder. "You know, Ariel has that guest house. We could go live with her and her family."

"In Jersey?" Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste before chuckling at the face Noah replied with. "No, it does sound nice. It's not like we've got jobs holding us here anymore. Friends, but..."

"Screw our friends," Noah said. "I wanna see my grandkids more often. I wanna make sure that husband of hers treats her right and-"

"Sweetie, Chalie is amazing. He'll treat her right."

"Still." Noah looks around the apartment and Kurt can practically see him remembering their life full of kids and love and loss.

"Or," he said, taking Noah's wrinkled hand in his (still moderately youthful-looking) hand. "We base ourselves in Ariel's guest house and spend most of our time traveling until we run out of money and have to stop. Oh! We could go to Paris again!"

"We'll go wherever you want, boss," Noah replied with an flirty wink.

Kurt smiled and kissed his husband. "I like the sound of that."


End file.
